


Eins

by Cafe_nina



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Beau Alone AU, Friendship, Gen, but mostly sadness, found familyness, somewhat happy ending, spoilers for ep 26
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 08:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15384807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cafe_nina/pseuds/Cafe_nina
Summary: Beauregard blames herself for what happened.A Beauregard centric kinda-vent piece AU where Caleb and Nott leave after the events of episode 26 and Beauregard has to deal with the aftermath.





	Eins

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Caf gets super fuckin emo about crit role. Episode 26 hit me hard y'all and it hit me even harder when I saw someone suggest that Caleb and Nott might bounce after this and my favorite boss ass bitch who cares about only six people in the world would be alone again. I’m glad that didn’t happen (from what ive heard about ep 27) but I also wanted to cycle through my Molly/Beau frenemy feelings anyway so have this.

 

* * *

 

She stares. A thousand feet away from him as the nervous whickering of horses and the creaking of wagons grows distant. She’s stuck in place waiting, waiting for them to go, letting them go. She still keeps her eyes on him, a pinprick of red and lavender on white, as the Shepherds leave and take half of her with them. She clenches her slick fists, wood of her staff groaning, as the rush fades and every part of her starts to burn and throb and shake.

The snow falls thick, sticks to her cracked knuckles and stings. The road is empty now and she doesn’t move. She can’t move, again. It’s Nott slowly beginning to creep forward that forces her legs after her and she sloshes a step behind her through ice and mud to reach him. Molly, crimson eyes open to the sky, body torn open, gone, empty. A shiver quakes through her body as she stares and waits for his chest to start rising again, for him to curse in Infernal and sit up with a grin and a few curses for her too. The snow starts to flake on his lashes.

Nott, on her knees beside him, reaches out with shuddering hands and lays them on his shoulders. She has to whirl away violently, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, as Nott quietly calls for him. 

She stood right there. She was right there. All she could do was watch.

Nott’s voice catches as she says his name a third time and that’s when she slides down her staff on her knees. She can see the tears trickling down her green chin, as her voice turns into a pitiful croak. She’s lost, what does she do, what does she say? Fjord would know. Did Fjord know, did Jester, Yasha? Did they watch her miss Lorenzo, see Molly fall into the snow, watch her get him killed.

This is her fault.

Carefully, gingerly, she stretches her hand to Nott’s, runs her fingers up the back of her hand softly, waiting for her to swat her off. Nott is perfectly still, silent, as her big rough hand covers her tiny one, barely clutches her. Slowly Nott begins to move their hands together. She draws in a painful breath, ribs burning, when their hands find delicate lavender fingers covered with red.

She feels Nott shift her weight into her side, the breaths they take in tandem only make Molly look more still. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers to both of them. To all of them.

“What for?” Nott asks, she feels her bristle then snarl, “That asshole Lorenzo did this and we’ll make him pay for it.”

The crunch of snow comes from behind them as someone catches up, she glances up to see Caleb, his mouth parted in shock, eyes roving over Molly again and again. He hadn’t seen it happen. Eventually he sinks down next to Nott, expression painfully twisted. He reaches out a hand of his own and shuts Molly’s eyes. 

Nott throws herself into Caleb’s arms and he folds around her, chin knocked onto her shoulder as he stares straight ahead. She’s left holding Molly, his hand colder than the ice. She curls her hand around his tightly, the snake there hidden, his blood settling into the curved patterns on her finger tips. Their hands begin to blur.

They take what they have to, curl him up in the tapestry of the silver dragon, and lay him in the dirt. It takes all night and when they finish and the sun begins to set, they find a thicket, tie the thread, and try to sleep. Keg watches them with pity on the other side of camp as they lie down together.

Nott grabs her arm and wraps it around herself, small sharp nails running over the bruises and freeze burns on her skin, then turns around and presses her entire body to Caleb’s chest. She throws her free arm over both of them, because fuck pretending she’s okay, and drags them as close as she can. Caleb catches her eye once, no questions, no words, just understanding. Her throat gets tight, the shame almost choking her, and she looks away.

Behind closed eyes she sees that glaive go into Molly’s chest over and over.

She stays awake for a long time.

* * *

They let Keg have a horse the next morning. The pity in her expression hasn’t faded but she doesn’t fight the offer, she can probably tell there’s not much fight left in them. Quick as she appeared, she leaves. And then it’s just three.

“What’s our plan?” Nott rasps as she takes another sip from her flask.

She spins her staff in small circles on her fingers as she paces, shaking off the extra chill. “We find them again then follow those fuckers to wherever their hideout is, go from there. Maybe we could try to find a way to sneak in and get everyone else out.”

Caleb laughs quietly from where he’s scooping up his bedroll and she snaps toward him. Over the haversack in his arms, Jester’s haversack, he examines her in disbelief. “You got a better idea?” She snaps, bo smacking into her palm, lining the bone of her arm.

Caleb searches her for a moment, understanding dawning. “Beauregard,” He states slowly in a way that makes her teeth grit. “I understand that this is a difficult time, it is for all of us, but,” his tone gets incredulous as his gaze veers away, “we cannot go after them. Our odds have not gotten better, in fact they’ve gotten much worse.” He locks eyes with her again as he says, “You know this is not a viable plan.”

Of fucking course he wanted to run away. “So what’s your plan!” She yells. “Run? Like Keg? That’s all you ever want to do. At least she doesn’t have anyone left to lose.” Not like them.

Caleb’s jaw works as he thinks over his words and she really wants to hit him. She’s not a kid, she can handle what he has to say. He breathes in noisily. “Consider what just happened last night, with Mollymauk,” Her heart stutters as he stumbles over the name but then he shakes himself out of it, his expression grave. “They were toying with us. If we go after the other three, if we are discovered, they may not survive, we may not survive. You have to ask yourself this, what good are you to these people if you are dead?”

_What good are you._

She picks up her staff in both hands and slams it into the closest tree. The crack is loud and echoing, mixing in with the sound of Nott screeching. “I don’t fucking care,” She heaves as she whirls back to face him, finger pointed. “I won’t do nothing. I’m not going to fucking run. We’re not leaving them, so come up with something else.”

Caleb has his hands up in surrender, his head turned away for a strike she won’t deliver. When she glances over at Nott, her eyes are darting fearfully back and forth, her hand on her crossbow. She realizes she can’t hit him, they’ll leave. She staggers back a few steps, till the backs of her feet hit stone. She can’t hurt him, she can’t. She can’t let anyone else get hurt. She won’t let anyone else get hurt.

Caleb nods slowly, head down. “Alright,” he whispers. “Give me some time.”

She takes off into the woods.

* * *

 When she comes back, after beating the shit out of the trees so hard her staff cracked, they haven’t left her. Nott offers her John’s reigns and they spend the rest of the day in the saddle, slowly following the road to the Run.

The snow only gets worse, blowing in fast and dense, and eventually barren landscape and the sight of wagon tracks fades to white. They bed down early in a shallow cave made by a few boulders leaning against each other.

By the time they unpack her hands shake so badly she can barely light a fire, it’s small, there hadn’t been much brush, but it’s something. The joints in her fingers ache from where she’s broken them before.

Caleb is pouring over one of his books and Nott watches her intently while curled at his side. Even in the small space she tries to give them room to breathe, none of them have done much talking since that morning. She went too far, maybe, but she couldn’t risk them leaving. Not now. She’ll apologize when it’s over.

She takes first watch, alone, hoping to get it over with and rest, and Caleb and Nott don’t fight her on it. The snowing slows an hour in. The only noise she can hear is the hiss of the fire dying and the horses shifting nearby. It’s too quiet.

She pulls Molly’s deck out of her pocket. The gold trimmed cards gleam softly in the low fire light, the very tips dipped in blood. All too fitting. She pulls one out, semi-disgusted with herself as she flips it over. An overly colorful figure twirls and dances amongst a laughing crowd. The fool. The laugh sticks in her throat.

_“To not quite being the worst people.”_

“Beau?”

She scrubs at her face angrily and stuffs the deck back in her pocket nowhere near fast enough to avoid Nott seeing.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Her voice comes out rougher than she’d like it.

Nott stares at her, round eyes full of sympathy, before plopping down next to her. “Nothing.”

They watch into the darkness for a while, the moon hidden tonight, Nott tucked against her while she rubs the wet off her face. “You should be asleep.” she murmurs eventually.

She feels Nott’s shoulders rise and fall quietly. “I’m not that tired.”

She sighs, watching the breath fog out of her mouth. “You don’t have to keep me company.”

“I know.”

More silence but this time Nott’s gaze flickers from her back to her feet. After another moment she finally whispers, “Hey Beau? You know a lot of things right? Because you’re a Cobalt monk or whatever.”

She laughs dryly. “Yeah?”

She feels Nott hold her breath. “Where do people go when they die?”

The cracks in her ribs throb as she sucks in air, her teeth drawing blood from her chapped lips, she feels her heart thudding panicked somewhere behind her chest. She can almost hear Fjord quietly reminding her to be gentle, genuine.

She’s staring out at the silent early morning when she finally says, “Somewhere way better than here.”

She sees Nott in the corner of her eye consider her for a long time before nodding to herself. “That’s good.”

She blinks again and again as her eyes start to sting, drags Nott closer as her tiny arms wind around her torso.

She doesn’t know.

* * *

When she wakes up in the morning the snow has stopped and her jade bracelet is laying next to her. When she looks around the campsite is empty, their bedrolls aren’t there, and another horse is gone. She rushes out of the cave and spies a set of tracks on the snow, fresh and going the wrong way. 

They left. They fucking left her.

She throws the bracelet as hard as she can and screams. It drops several feet away, disappearing into a couple inches of snow. She hopes they hear her, hopes that the guilt naws at them from the inside, till they can’t stand it. Because they didn’t just leave her, they left Yasha, they left Fjord, they left Jester.

They better hope she dies.

* * *

 Rivulets of blood run between her hands and onto the snow and she thinks it’s so strange to see so much of it pouring out of her all at once.

She had traveled hard to catch up and she had managed it, managed to sneak up as they had stopped outside the Run just a day away, maybe less. She’d been so close until they found her.

The Iron Shepherds shift around her lazily, battle already won, now they wait.

Lorenzo steps toward her, tilts up her chin with the point of his glaive and smirks when she lolls her head to the side. “You should’ve quit while you could.” His eyes are on her when he tells another Shepherd. “Peel back the tarp on the cages, breakin’ starts early.”

Someone walks away and the footsteps sync with her heartbeat, too fast, too fast, too much blood.

Fabric rustles and metal clangs and when she looks over she sees them, chained, gagged, and beaten. Fjord’s eyes go wide with shock then they begin to shift around, frantically searching for a way out. Jester, her cheek bruised on one side, watches her with desperation, pressed as close as she can get to her despite the bars. Yasha stares, worry in her beautiful eyes, and her gaze doesn’t leave hers. She smiles weakly at them.

Lorenzo throws a kick to her side as he circles her and she groans, bent over on her knees, heaving to get her breath back, the cold air lighting her lungs on fire. She sees Jester’s face crumple, she hears chains straining as all three of them react.

“You’ve got spirit, I admire that.” Lorenzo drawls. “I enjoy seeing people like you get broken.” Her head is yanked back up by her hair as he whispers in her ear. “But you took one of ours and I gave ya a warnin’ that was more than fair.”

The glaive pricks in a place between her shoulder blades. “Any final words?”

So much, she has so much she wants to say, where does she start. She thinks of them. Of Yasha’s arms around her, callus hands pressing magic into her skin. Of her soft incantation vibrating through her whole body, how warm it was. She thinks of nimble blue fingers combing through her hair, tying it up for her as Jester snickers at something she can’t remember. Of pillow fights and bedhead, her first roommate. She thinks of Fjord at her side, like usual, his eyes fond as he thumps her on the back and murmurs encouragement. She thinks of Nott’s small rapid heartbeat thumping against her ribs as she pulls her away from the manticore. Of yellow eyes watching her, gaze attentive and understanding as fireworks explode over their heads. She thinks of Caleb’s eyes coming back into focus as she wipes the grit from his forehead, his arms sliding around her stiffly, how he doesn’t say anything either time but his expression is grateful. She thinks of Molly smirking proudly as he calls her unpleasant. Of the last night he was alive, a glimpse of rolled red eyes before Molly pulls her into his chest as they huddle against the cold.

She smiles the way he did when he died. “Thank you.”

The glaive sinks into her back and she hopes that they all end up somewhere better.

* * *

 She feels warmth soaking into her back and dirt on her skin. Her eyes ease open and the white, the cold, has turned gold. She reaches a hand out and her eyes focus when she feels long grass slipping through her fingers. She pushes herself up off the ground, feeling herself for cuts and bruises, but she can’t find them.

She stands carefully, her staff gone and her legs wobbly, and looks around. She is in a giant field of wild grass that comes up to her knees. She can hear birds singing in the distance and it’s all too bright except for the silhouette cutting a shadow through it a few feet away. 

An ivory grin slices across his face but his eyes are mournful. “Miss me that much, Beau?” Molly sighs out, grinning too wide to act cross.

She stares. Molly. Tall and glittering and breathing, stands a few feet away from her. The sequins on his coat, the bits of jewelry in his horns, catch every bit of light, no blood stains, no cuts, all the right colors, all the right fabric, like it should be.

She chuckles, wet and low, and says the first thing that comes to mind. “Fuck you, Molly.”

He rolls his eyes and clucks his tongue as he walks toward her. “Can’t believe I have to put up with you.”

She takes a sudden step back as he starts stepping forward, and he freezes in place but she won’t look at him. She hasn’t forgotten. She did this. He’s here because of her, here because she did nothing. “I’m sorry.” That’s not enough, how could that ever be enough. Her eyes are burning as she watches the grass sway and writhe, turning an amber color in the setting sun. “It’s my fault and I’m sorry.”

He steps closer and she stares down the patterns on his coat. He pinches her chin up roughly till she has to look him in the eye and she sees his frown quaver. “You…” he clears his throat and quickly sobers. “This isn’t on you. We did what we did for them, that’s all that matters.”

No, it’s not that easy, it’s just not. “You can’t just--” She backs away from his grip. “That’s not how this work.”

“Sure I can.” He says quietly. “I just did.”

“I’m being serious, asshole.” She growls.

He stares down at her, smile bemused. “Yeah, you are kind of being a serious asshole. At this point I know to take it personally.”

A prickle of heat crawls up her neck and she glares sharply up at him “Don’t fucking fuck with me on this, Molly.” She warns in a low voice.

Amusement dances over his features. “Me fuck with you? Never.”

She lashes out and shoves him, feels him solid and real under her hands for a second as he stumbles backward, barely catching himself.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” He shouts.

“Cut the bullshit.” She yells back, throat aching. “No more hiding. Tell me the truth.”

He shakes his head, baffled. “What truth?”

She glares at him, demanding he take this seriously. “Tell me you don’t forgive me.”

His expression becomes solemn and he sighs, shoulders sinking, face drawn. She tells herself she’ll accept whatever he says, she asked for the truth, she can take it. Even if it hurts. She watches him intently, as he searches for words, until he holds her gaze unwavering.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” He utters finally. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We took on more than we could handle and that’s on all of us, not just you. If I had to do it over again I would make the same choice. Why? Because I wanted to save them, we all did, and if there was even a chance of that happening I would take that chance every time. So quit blaming yourself for my mistakes. The past is the past. We’re here now, together, for better or worse.”

He glares at her firmly after a moment and adds, “ _That’s_ the truth.”

She studies him, looking for the lie, any and all, but she doesn’t find one. His words start to sink in and something that’s been coiled inside her unwinds itself from her chest, sinks into her stomach like relief. This wasn’t her fault, Molly doesn’t blame her, and he’s not going to leave again.

She grinds a palm against her eyes and softly says. “Alright, I believe you.”

The silence is nice, the sky grows to a dark bruised blue and stars slowly begin to appear. A line of fire fades on the horizon where the sun vanishes and the wind blows through the grass of the empty field they’re in as faint music softly drifts along with it. Her attention slides back to the lean figure standing near her and Molly just seems to be soaking her in. She’ll never understand him, how, in spite of everything, he still looks happy to see her.

“My god, dying has turned you into a huge sap.” He finally snides, no real malice to his voice.

“Hey, fuck you man,” She spits back, trying to fight the pulling at the corner of her lips. “I don’t care that we’re dead I’ll still kick your ass.”

He laughs, head back, cackling and loud, and missed (god, she is getting sappy). When he catches his breath he looks back at her, eyes brimming with happiness. “Thank you. I hate that you had to come but I’m,” he shakes his head and chuckles, “I’m actually glad that you’re here.”

She stops fighting the smile but cocks an eyebrow. “Now who’s the fuckin’ sap.”

“Still you.”

He’s grabbing her arms and she lets him pull her to his side, an arm wraps lazily over her shoulders. After a moment she slowly hooks her own arm across the middle of his back.

“So, where to first?” She’s completely ignoring the smug smile he sends her.

“Well,” He glances off. “If we keep walking that way, through that forest, we will eventually find a literal fuckton of people dancing and carrying on. And do these people know how to party, they’ve been doing it since they got here.”

“It’s really weird, this whole you knowing things that I don’t. Doesn’t feel right.”

“Better get used to it.”

“Fuck you, Molly.”

“Fuck you too, Beau.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Thank you so much for reading my big fat vent piece, some parts are messier than others and I'm not quite happy but hey after this who is. Originally this ended on a much more hopeful note with Beau getting revived, but it felt wrong for Beau to leave Molly. These two are like salt and pepper to me and I hate to break up a pair. We're all a little hurt right now, but making this helped. I look forward to the future of cr even if it hurts now. So maybe goodbye my purple guy, I miss you already.)
> 
> //(edit. some clean up because I posted this at 3am and everything was double spaced. I found a whole paragraph about Keg that just got lost in transition?? sorry for any confusion))


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